Fire and Ice
by Limited Edge
Summary: Number nine pro hero Shouto is used to danger and death, but he wasn't prepared for this; the number one hero's death, becoming enemy number one, and tripping into one conspiracy after the next- conspiracies that involve the vigilante Dekuless, and a weapon of mass destruction he stole from the League. And Shouto thought not using his left side was his biggest concern. AU postcanon
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I do not own BNHA. I'm just kicking around the sandbox a little.**

 **Warnings: Some graphic injuries, and major wrenches on canon (which will slowly be revealed…) Hope you enjoy!**

Shouto's patrol that day was actually pretty normal, before the street exploded.

It had been a Wednesday. What actually happened on Wednesdays except lame jokes about hump day? It was just the hill of the week, another day working for the weekend like that one song that Momo was always humming to.

Even villainy was lax on Wednesdays. So far, only an alligator-headed purse snatcher, a woman whose time glitching quirk had malfunctioned at an intersection, and a bubble of darkness fueled petty crime at the mall had been on his plate today. The last had been the most difficult, not because the villains had been hard to deal with (teenagers stealing TV's weren't really an ice barricade worthy occurrence) but because of the darkness itself, that stirred up memories best left forgotten.

But all in all, it had been as usual. A few fans had stopped him for autographs, as Shouto had come to expect with his position as the number nine hero. It had been awkward, but the distant thought of Gale hunting him down for being broody did the trick to make him grit his teeth and bare the interaction.

Other than that, all had seemed good.

A little too good, in hindsight.

Shouto had been taking his lunch on a nearby rooftop, visor lifted up as he surveyed the ground below from the relative peace of fourteen stories up. Shouto had never really been worried about heights- being able to instantly create a ramp of ice mid freefall curbed those kinds of fears. Eating his usual cold soba noodles had been peaceful, if anything, with the wind in his hair.

The kind of peaceful that gave him the gusto to casually call up Momo. Shouto was closer with her than he was even with his siblings, but he wasn't usually comfortable enough to strike up random conversation, during work no less. But if there was anyone he could call when he was feeling something close to good instead of bland and melancholic, it was her.

Besides. Boredom can be a pretty good motivator for social interaction. Remember, achingly normal Wednesday, anyone?

It was easy to find Momo in his contacts- only one other started with an 'M' on his phone, and it was only still there because Shouto hadn't built up the resolve to delete it. Hovering his finger over that whimsical red trashcan next to the icon always sent his stomach sinking into a gaping pit.

He didn't pay that defunct contact any mind today, though. After a tap on the icon of a green... was that a phone? Shouto had never seen one that looked like that in use- and a switch to speaker, Shouto was ready for his weekly quota of human interaction.

The ringtone of his call abruptly gave way after the first ring to the woman of the hour.

Despite the call picking up, Shouto patiently waited as numerous bangs and clangs, along with the occasional muffled swear, drifted across the line as Momo shoved aside her recent project in favour of the call. Momo never liked having her clutter in front of her when they talked. A distant beep echoed in his ear- another incoming text, which he really _should_ look over as this phone was also directed with hero related notifications-

"Shouto, what's wrong?" Momo frantically asked from the other end.

Shouto took a sip from his juicebox as he surveyed the street below. No screams of anarchy and distress, or ominous columns of smoke, nor evil manacle laughter (it was astonishing how often that was actually a precursor to villain encounters). Probably fine to ignore the possible hero alert- it would be for a different patrol route. It was a Wednesday. Missing one text wouldn't lead to the end of the world.

"Nothing. Had time for a call," Shouto finally responded.

"…Oh. Oh! That's, good?" Momo hummed, and Shouto idly watched a solitary wisp of cloud lonely proceed across the great, blue expanse of the sky. "Well, what did you want to talk about?"

"Not sure," Shouto responded. "I suppose I wanted to know how you were doing. Did you find out the molecular composition to the insulator for Chargebolt's costume? Or have you been too busy filing the paperwork for your new house?"

Momo giggled on the other end. "Oh, Shouto, all business talk, as usual. Yes, I did figure it out- it took an hour long session at Lucky's buffet, but I cracked the case. My house, and the attached workshop, are all in order, and I will be paying off the final sum once I manage to finalize my next allotment of grant money. Business… as usual," Momo repeated again, but something seemed off with the way her words lilted.

Shouto pursed his lips, his eyes flicking down to zone out on the soba noodles settled on the left side of his lap. What had 'Interpersonal Workings- Making Real Connections'- said to do in times like these?

Ah! Of course. Shouto swallowed, and tentatively asked, "I see. And how is your relationship with-"

"NO!" Momo interrupted. "Ah, I mean, um. I didn't want to tell you over the phone, but…" Shouto heard Momo take a breath in, then carefully exhale. "We broke up. I couldn't stay with someone who was only with me for my body." Momo sighed. "I really thought… that it was something special that we had. That we were a team that shared interests, cared about each other, and supported each other as equals. But I couldn't take it anymore- the constant demands, the inattention… It hurts, Shouto, when you want to have a nice dinner outside of work, and all the other wants is you stripped and ready to-"

"I get it!" Shouto interrupted, wincing as he cut off Momo's rant. He carefully set his juicebox down and transferred his container of noodles to the right side of his lap, already able to feel the steam coming off his left half. "Not appreciating you beyond, ah… What you were… bodily capable of giving shows that- your relationship, lacked, the foundations of love, trust, and compromise, that are necessary to… to-"

Momo laughed. "Don't strain yourself, Shouto. I'm a big girl. You don't have to crack into your self-help books to categorize the problems with my dating life."

Shouto sighed. "Thank god."

Momo giggled, but even Shouto could tell it was a front to hide what she really felt. It wasn't right. Momo, of all people, shouldn't have to go through something like this. She had suffered enough back in highschool, and deserved all the happiness and more now. Shouto hadn't known how to help back then- he had been too involved in the situation himself to help. Too hurt to save the dream of his best friend…

Maybe he could help make up for that terrible shortcoming now.

Shouto swallowed. "Want… me to, throw my weight around a little? Ninth ranked pro hero isn't anything to sneeze at. I can be pretty intimidating."

"Throw your… weight… HAH!" Momo dissolved into breathy giggles, snorting and hiccupping. Shouto smiled at the sound. "Sho, no. Just no. You're about as intimidating as bunny slippers on a regular day. Do you really think someone who brushes off Copycat of all people by throwing wrenches at him will be scared of you?"

"…Yeah, I guess you're right. Mei has no concept of fear."

Momo hummed. "It's something I really like about her. But… I can only stand being asked to drop my pants to make titanium alloy costume plating so many times, you know?"

"I know. Trust me- I _know_."

Momo squeaked. "You- you only walked in on us that one time, _you prude -"_

"Three times. Three times too many. And Mei was sans pants as well the other two times, if I recall correctly."

Momo made a sort of garbled sound, which Shouto likened to a dying whale mixed with something like a sex crazed guinea pig. He promptly told Momo about the similarity, which prompted more of the sound.

Momo finally reclaimed her voice, but Shouto could imagine the furious blush that likely had her tomato red. "You stop that! And, well, don't worry- you won't be running into a scene like that again. We're really done."

Shouto wasn't sure if he should be relieved- on one hand, his best friend was no longer in a relationship with someone more interested in the quirk than the person, which he knew from experience led only to suffering. On the other hand, she didn't seem too hot now either, despite finally seeing reason and 'escaping'.

"Momo…" he prodded.

"Anyways!" Momo interrupted again. She gave a light cough. "You should probably get back to your patrol- its only noon you slacker, what would Tsu- Tsuyu! Tsuyu say, hah…"

Shouto closed his eyes. He breathed in heavily, but the almost unearthed wound was thick from the kind of scarring that only time could provide. There was no blood to be spilled. "I guess you're right- I'll see you soon though, okay? Can't have you suffering a breakup on your lonesome-"

BOOM!

Shouto lurched backwards at the sudden sound. His ears rang, a nauseating sound resonating that transcended just inhibiting his hearing to the point he blinked dizzily against it.

"-TO? SHOUTO, WHAT WAS TH-"

BOOM!

Shouto was nearly knocked off his feet. He reached desperately for his belt of tools, and with some fumbling managed to find the ear protecting buds located to the left of his emergency heating packs. Before the next ear popping explosion could commence, Shouto quickly jammed the buds in either of his ears, and though the ringing didn't stop, he could tell the devices were working- he didn't feel like his brain would leak out of his ears as the next concussive blast tingled the hair on his arms.

Mei might have been a lousy girlfriend, but her inventions were top notch.

Shouto gave himself another moment to let the ringing abide slightly, then rushed to the edge of the roof, locking his pain behind the steel worthy barriers of his mind. He quickly surveyed the street below.

He couldn't see much- a cloud of dust and debris had been lifted up with the last three impacts. Glancing towards the fringes of the cloud of dust showed numerous civilians dazedly trying to get away. If Shouto had been this affected fourteen stories up, what had it been like on ground level?

Shouto wasted no time. He backed from the edge, then raced forwards to give himself a running leap. Headfirst , he began his freefall, a fourth blast sending dirt up to sting at his eyes. He reached a hand up to knock down the visor that he had pushed into his hair when he had started lunch, and having judged that two seconds had passed, sent his right arm down in a forceful arc and flipped to level his feet towards the ground. He slid along the tower of ice he had generated, his momentum carrying him as he made his ice form a ramp that he slid along to circle him around the dust cloud. He was eventually traveling horizontally with the remnants of the speed provided by his freefall.

The visor worked like a charm, blocking the dust from his eyes and allowing him to see with decent perception- more Hatsume-tech that proved its mettle time and again. The infrared scanners registered the people trapped within the cloud that Shouto would never have been able to pick out with just his eyes, and Shouto got to work speedily evacuating as many as he could. Save lives first, then worry about the origin of the incident.

Shouto couldn't hear much of anything thanks to the earpieces, but he could see the mouths flapping of the people he evacuated from the wreckage. Their lips parted in what was likely thanks as tears streamed down faces that blurred together as he saved another, and another, and another, depositing them outside the blast zone with (likely loud, because he really couldn't hear) instructions to head as far away as possible.

Shouto had only been guiding out people for less than three minutes (enough time that thirty more people were free) and it seemed like the work wouldn't end. Where were the other heroes?!

Another Boom! Sent Shouto nearly off balance- the woman in his arms silently (to him) screamed, and clamped her hands over her ears. He set her against an ice pillar that he created, and used it to give her a shove along one of the escape 'slides' he had made of ice. He turned back into the dust, waving his right hand with purpose to shove people out of the fray.

He didn't expect to be nearly bulldozed over.

It was Shouto's hard earned reflexes that saved him. He nimbly sidestepped as a large figure crashed to the ground right where he had been, and after a harsh blink, Shouto could see the figure's silhouette- and the impression of a bright, ragged red cape, even through all the dust. He pressed closer to see who had been sent crashing to the ground, already feeding frost to his right hand- a costume might not mean an ally.

Villains wore capes too.

He came up beside the person in a flash of ice, who was now apparent to be a man. Shouto's body tingled slightly as the mesh of his costume regulated the temperature of his right side as he sent an arc of ice around him and the man- it wouldn't do for fleeing civilians to stumble upon a possible battle. The man on the ground coughed, and Shouto pushed up his visor again to see with his own two eyes who lay before him. He almost wished he hadn't.

Blood leaked profusely from the edge of the man's mouth. His blonde hair was thick with dust, but shined oddly, glimmering a faint red that sent Shouto's heart plummeting into his stomach, and a cut nestled somewhere it the man's hairline sent a steady trickle of blood down to pool against the squinted shut lid of his left eye. The man had an arm shielded protectively over his stomach, and with good reason. Because hanging out, oozing, from beneath the confines of his arm, like snakes spilling from the gaping maw of their nest- were the man's intestines.

The man coughed, and wrenched his eyes open to meet Shouto's own. He reached with his other arm, and Shouto felt sick to see the unnatural way it bent to the side at the elbow. Shouto finally lurched forwards- possible villain or not, medical attention was a must- when the man weakly smiled.

It was then that Shouto's chest clenched, and his palms began to feel clammy, limp. He had been a pro hero for over five years, and never before had he seen something as chilling as that bloody smile. Because the pieces finally clicked. Teeth and identity were revealed simultaneously. Lying in front of him, half dead…

Was none other than the number one pro hero, Le Million.

Le Million coughed, and despite the immense pain he was likely in, used his 'good' arm to pull Shouto towards him by the sleeve. Shouto couldn't help it, but the first thing that popped into his head, was _weren't you on vacation?_

He resisted asking that, though. He dazedly reminded himself that telling a dying man he should be sun tanning was not conducive to a proper conversation.

Shouto's hero reflexes jerked to attention. His hand snapped to his belt- ready to unwind the condensed bandages covered in a secretion from a quirk which would suction it to the wound- but Le Million, with more strength than any regular man despite being only half alive, wrenched at his arm. Shouto was forced to stumble down so his right knee collided with rubble next to Le Million.

Le Million's oddly black eyes met his head on, wide and deranged as the man tried to maintain his signature smile despite the blood dyeing his teeth a gruesome red. The smile of hope, now mimicked eerily into this smile of nightmares. Shouto processed again that he should be staunching the bleeding, and, y'know, _stopping Le Million from dying,_ and was reaching forwards to at least clasp his hands over the man's stomach when the number one hero suddenly choked.

Le Million's lips fervently began to move.

Shouto wrenched a hand up, his left, scrabbling at his ear to rip out a bud-

"-n't hold them off for long- blew up damn well half a block trying to get her- us- out," Le Million gurgled, and Shouto tried to hear as much as he could with his one free ear. "Don't trust them, T'roki, it's all corrupt, _he's_ always been everywhere- the heroes, the police, _they can't be trusted_ -" Le Million coughed again, then babbled desperately, nearly incoherent. "nah un, 'ust nah un, 'ot to 'eep 'er _safe,_ Shouto, you _have to keep her safe-_ the legacy is hers, she took up the torch-"

Le Million suddenly moved so fast Shouto didn't have time to react. One second, Shouto was being held onto desperately by a dying man, and the next thing he knew he was being shoved to the side. A flash of black flesh- a fist- reaching through the smog of dust-

Met by another fist.

The impact sent Shouto crashing to the ground. A slip of his right foot allowed him to ground himself with ice, and with hardly a thought he was springing back into the fray.

Le Million hit the ground again- Shouto nearly lost his footing as the shockwave of impact surged through the ground- but this time, when the enshrouded enemy struck, Shouto was ready.

Lance after lance of ice speared into the swirling cloud of dust- all missed. An ominous flash of black was the only hint of the enemy, before Shouto managed to wrench a layer of ice in front of himself. Just in time- it shattered upon impact from the sneering, deranged creature, its black skin heaving with pulsing muscles.

Le Million was there in a blink. In a series of moves that were almost too fast for Shouto to keep track of, the number one pro hero and his foe exchanged fists like darting lightning, never striking the same place twice, but each combatant anticipating the next hit regardless in a show of incredible battle prowess. Shouto lurched in a breath, and scanned for an opportunity to strike that wouldn't injure Le Million further, but none were forthcoming.

Not that the blonde hero would have likely cared- he seemed heedless of his injuries, his smile still fixed in place, though it trembled every time his fist, his foot, his _head,_ made contact with his foe.

The villain had had enough. They suddenly snapped a leg towards the ground, shaking the rubble to displace Le Million's footing. With this new opportunity presented, the creature backhanded Le Million from the fray, off somewhere into the abyss of dust, past the massive walls of ice Shouto had erected earlier at the cost of misty breath- but likely the only reason no civilians were tangled in the conflict.

The villain recovered nearly immediately, and having disposed of Le Million, wrenched on a pivoting foot that gouged the ground, snarling as its bare, black toes bit into the dust, a breath from lunging for Shouto's neck-

Just in time for a glacier to swallow it whole.

Shouto panted from the undertaking, his lips involuntarily shuddering as a shiver wracked his frame. All the ice he had used to push civilians from the fray was catching up to him, on top of his own mimicry of the Wall of China. Hopefully his wouldn't fall to a madman with a gravity quirk. He kept his gaze focused on the encased creature. For a moment, his left side began to heat, the vapours of frost in the air evaporating-

Before instantly cooling. Shouto's suit kicked in instead, moderating the effects of his attack on his own body.

Shouto squinted at the creature. It was eerily familiar. But… It couldn't be. _That_ horrific death shop of horrors had been blown straight to hell in a fiery explosion five years ago- red and blue flames coalescing as Shouto had watched a man of fire burn-

SNAP.

Shouto wrenched himself from the past in a mental jerk that came with practice.

CRACK.

A hairline fracture split along the ice holding the creature. Shouto's right hand lifted, ice erupting in its wake to refortify the prison, but it was too late- either because he was too slow, or the creature was too fast, he didn't know. The ice _shattered._ A shard speared in Shouto's direction, and already having committed to the slide of ice emerging from his right side, he was unable to shift and dodge completely.

A line of fire ignited along his left cheekbone. The burn made Shouto reflexively spasm, because he _wouldn't_ let his damn left side ignite. The only one who had ever made him cave in to that hellish quirk was an outlier, and Shouto wouldn't lose to the legacy of fire-

No- the stinging of his cheek wasn't fire, but the result of vicious shrapnel-

The creature grinned gruesomely ( _oh shit it was free-)_ lunging forwards, fist extended as Shouto threw up his right hand-

Fist met fist. An explosion, not of fire but of shear pressure from the force of the equal and opposite blasts- hurtled outwards, throwing Shouto to the ground again.

He didn't have time to land gracefully like last time. His temple smacked against a piece of rubble as he fell, and suddenly his head felt light- was it supposed to feel light? Maybe it was, maybe regular people felt breezy like this all the time, and Shouto didn't cause he was broken, a spinning top with an uneven weighting that couldn't spin, filled half full with something like death and something like betrayal, a darkness all his own, a darkness born from fire and flame, that made Shouto the kind of person that couldn't even save his friend from-

 _Focus._ It was just a head injury.

Shouto dazedly tilted his head up. The dust was beginning to clear. A black… something lay in a heap, ( _the villain, the_ goddamn villain, _pull yourself together-)_ innards exploded out behind it from some incredible force.

Le Million lay opposite from it, crumpled on the ground like Shouto currently was. Seeping copious amounts of red though, just like the black mound.

 _Why?_ Whispered in Shouto's head. _Le Million should have phased- both now_ and _throughout the battle. Why didn't he phase?-_

The last conscious image Shouto was able to make out before the heavy intoxication of dreamless sleep claimed him was the single, solitary figure crouched in front of Le Million. A black figure, so achingly familiar, edged with green around the edges. Taking something from Le Million's body with gentle hands, then getting up- and walking, casually, into the dwindling cloud of dust.

 _Him_ , Shouto realized.

 _Dekuless_.

But by the time that thought registered, Shouto was already unconscious.

 **A/N: So! Thanks for reading the first chapter. I already have this story mostly planned (I'm so excited for the ending its killing me) and it looks like it'll be, I dunno, about twenty chapters? I think I'll be able to get a chapter out every month (or hopefully sooner), but cause of uni, I'm crossing my fingers... Either way, I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you liked, and who you'd like to see**


	2. Chapter 2

"-nd in critical condition, and died on scene. What this will mean for the people of Japan is unclear at this time, but rest assured, our heroes will stand strong in the face of this tragedy."

Shouto dazedly opened his eyes, lured awake by the distant, but clear cut voice of a resolute woman. He glanced to the left- there, on a small, square stand. An atypical TV. To the right, light poured in from a white edged windowsill. The rest of the room was small, but cleanly and orderly. There was a small coat rack next to its closed door, and beside Shouto's bed, there was… a set of medical equipment that he had no idea the names of, a cord dangling from the innards of the beeping mechanism leading to his wrist.

Shouto lifted his hand, and blandly observed the cord that disappeared beneath the white tape around his wrist. The white sleeve of his arm airily drifted down, and Shouto internally sighed.

A hospital. Great. Not like he had memories of horrific trauma attached to them, or anything.

Shouto didn't have time to process more than that. A sudden increase of sound from the TV captured his attention.

The reporter on screen was wearing a light wind breaker and a harsh frown. Her black hair whipped slightly from its braid, and her skin glowed faintly green. She gestured behind her, the other resolutely holding the microphone up.

"Behind me, you can see the terror that has been wrought on the city," she said, and her hand swept in a gesture that the camera encapsulated- leading over mounds of rubble dotted with heroes and paramedics alike. One hero was in the process of shoving up a wall, while another wildly coloured figure left a trail of dissolved rubble coated in acid in her wake. "Over seven blocks have been closed due to the compromise of internal structure of buildings," the reporter continued, "and evacuation and recovery efforts persist. Estimates suggest that two hundred people are still unaccounted for amidst the rubble."

The newsreel flashed back to a main newsroom. A man with silver skin and a frill of spikes jutting from his neck pursed his lips, his fingers clenching around the sheets of paper in his hands. Shouto assumed most people wouldn't have noticed the man's anger- Shouto had simply been raised to tell when such emotion was ready to boil over.

The male reported began his report. "Thank you, Tsukiko. It now bears the question on how a tragedy like this could have occurred. Reports and video surveillance show that the incident today happened at eleven thirty three- the time of the first explosion. For some reason, the only hero on scene, besides… Le Million…" here, the reporter's frills seemed to droop, and the man had to take in a deep breath before he continued, "was the number nine pro hero, Hand Crusher."

 _Shouto,_ said man thought to himself, his lips twisting downwards. Hand Crusher was _not_ his hero name.

A picture of Shouto's face, in hero gear, appeared to the left of the reporter. In the picture, his visor was down, and his white hair was loose and obscuring the top portion of his scar that his visor missed. All that was visible of Shouto's face was the bottom edge of his scar, and a straight lined mouth.

"Reports in the day since the incident reveal that Shouto aided in the evacuation of nearly fifty civilians, before falling debris knocked the hero unconscious." The reporter's lips pursed. His eyes flickered to the left for a second, before shifting back to monitor, his gaze hard. "It… begs the question. On the similarity between the events of today, and the tragic events of five years ago-"

The TV cut out to a black screen, and the abrupt silence snapped Shouto back to reality. He glanced towards the now open door of the room.

Momo was standing just inside the doorway. There was a remote in her hand, still pointed at the TV. She glanced over to meet Shouto's stare, and sighed. She set the remote back down on a side ledge next to the doorway that Shouto had not noticed earlier, closed the door, and smoothed down her skirt.

With elegant steps that belied the heavy tread of her shoe, Momo crossed the room to sit on the edge of Shouto's bed. Her hands primly crossed in her lap, but Shouto immediately noticed the red strips lining the underside of her arms. Momo always scratched the skin there when she was nervous or afraid.

For a moment, neither her nor Shouto said a word. They continued to look at each other, the quiet of the room only impeded by the distant wheel of gurneys and feet on the other side of the door.

Momo cracked first.

"How are you feeling?" she gently asked.

Shouto gave a shrug. "I'd rate myself somewhere between 'crushed by a building' and 'closed lined by Kirishima'. I only just woke up though, and I don't feel to cold. How did you know…?"

"I had them connect me to an alert, so that I would know when your heartrate changed." Shouto raised an eyebrow, and Momo's cheeks reddened. "I was worried, okay? I knew it was just a concussion and some bruising, but… but the last thing I heard was an _explosion,_ then _nothing."_

Momo looked down at her hands, which were now clasped tightly together. "You could have been dead, and the last thing we would have talked about was my inability to date people good for me, and I just felt… _useless,_ okay? Knowing that you were in trouble, and I was just in the shop, holding onto my phone and thinking the worst-"

Shouto reached over and grabbed Momo's hands. Her whispers abruptly cut off, and she stared down as Shouto's thumb gently rubbed at her tense knuckles. She looked up, and Shouto's lips quirked in an involuntary smile.

"You know I won't go down that easy. We have that 'thirty-five promise' I have to be around for just in case, remember? And…" Shouto blanked for a second, but in a spurt of ingenuity that might have been fueled by the medication being pumped through his veins, said, "…and I'm sorry I scared you. You… you're my best friend Momo- you'll never be useless to me, even if you get turned into a turtle."

"A… turtle?" Momo's lips pinched, and her cheeks rounded up with the smile she was trying to repress. "Oh, Sho… You're such a dork."

Shouto was just fine with being a dork though, if it meant he could make one of the few people he cared about smile.

With years of practice that came with the numerous bumps and scrapes that had landed Shouto in recovery over the years, Momo settled down into the bed. Together, they lifted the cord attached to his wrist so that he could swing an arm around her shoulders. It wasn't the most comfortable position- Momo was taller than Shouto, and the worst of his injuries may have been his concussion, but his ribs were sore.

It was still perfect.

Loose black hair shifted as Momo turned to look up at him. "Do… do you want to talk about it?"

Shouto hummed. "Do you want to know?"

Momo glared. "Stop trying to make me seem like a whimp, Shouto- I trained to be a hero, just like you. This is for your benefit, not mine, Mr. Hand Crusher," and ignored Shouto's mutters of "twice is coincidence, not a name worthy pattern!" She gave a light bump to his side, and Shouto sighed. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, contemplated the likelihood of the hanging light suddenly falling, splitting open his skull, and putting him out of his misery. He figured the odds were out of his favour.

He began.

He almost tripped over his words when he got to Le Million. The story came in stuttering halts, but Shouto wasn't a stranger to loss- it wasn't even that he had been especially close with the pro hero. They were coworkers that respected each other, but other than a few training exercises in his first year of high school and the occasional overlapping mission, Shouto didn't talk with Le Million. The most recent three months ago, during _that_ clusterfuck where a certain vigilante almost made Shouto blow a fuse,and murderers were finally caught. God. Shouto was still trying to repress that mission…

Anyways, Le Million was the kind of hero that knew everyone. He, above all others, was the only one to have ever held a candle to continuing All Might's role as the symbol of peace. Even if you weren't specifically friends with Le Million (that fell to Sun Eater and WIND CHICK), he had that kind of prescence that made him the center- the hero of Japan.

He even had the quirk to match- the one that had made Shouto try on his tin hat for a year and cross reference genealogies, and luckily not put his foot in his mouth- thank god he caught a glimpse of Le Million's father before he could voice controversial theories on cuckholding. Le Million was Le Million, after all- Japan's symbol of peace, and the number one hero.

At least, until… Yesterday.

As always, Momo was the best kind of audience. She listened attentively, and made just enough inquisitive sounds so that it didn't feel like he was just talking to a rubber duck to vent his problems (which Shouto had _certainly_ never done). He informed her of everything, in as much detail as he could- even the moments that felt like they couldn't be real.

The chaos, and saving the people he could.

Le Million's… last words. (The image of that bloody smile would haunt Shouto- but he was no stranger to ghosts. Hero's died. You had to carry on, if only to welcome the newest Symbol of Peace in a string of figureheads that crumbled beneath the weight of the world.)

Fighting the creature of nightmares thought laid to rest.

And finally… Dekuless.

Momo tried her best to say what needed to be said, but Shouto knew that in situations like these there was almost nothing that could just 'make it better'. Her being there was enough.

It had to be.

"Maybe Le Million… meant that he was passing on the title of number one pro hero?" She snorted. "It's about time a girl got it, and I think we _all_ know who he probably meant."

Well. She wasn't wrong.

"And… well, you _did_ have a head injury, Shouto- I believe you think you saw him, but an incident like that… Well. He's the sort of vigilante that shows up at shady night dealings- not on scene to earthshaking catastrophe." Which Shouto agreed with- especially because even if it seemed like that green pest was always up in Shouto's business, he hadn't been spotted in since that last mission with Le Million three months ago _._ Concussions did wonders for the imagination.

Shouto carefully didn't analyze why his imagination would make him hallucinate a vigilante that had interfered with his career, had taunted him for years, was always there to call out Shouto's mistakes, and was the _only_ one that had ever managed to provoke even a lick of terrible fire from him. Dekuless was the one who got away, time and again, the infuriating little pest of Shouto's bland life that had the audacity to embarrass and save him at turns.

…Yeah. Weird that he hallucinated the vigilante, of all people.

("Confront your problems as they arise, ignorance is never bliss" flashed before his eyes, a mocking quote from 'Interpersonal Workings- Making Real Connections' that he carefully ignored.)

Momo ignored his inner angst fest with a sigh, and brushed Shouto's hair back from the bandages tracing just under his scar. It was soft, and soothing, and if Shouto was a cat he would have purred.

She hummed. "And… mm. So. You think, that it was a noumu?" Shouto tensed, but Momo patiently waited. Finally he nodded, and she sighed. "I believe you- you saw it before you injured yourself, and it makes sense that only one of _those_ could go against Le Million. But…" Shouto could feel Momo shift, and suddenly there were lips right next to his ear. "I asked some of the heroes that arrived after the incident. The noumu… definitely wasn't there. It didn't show up in any reports, and the dust was too thick to see any of what happened. They're not saying it on the news yet, but it's going to be officially recorded as a planned bombing by terrorists."

Shouto whipped his head to stare with wide eyes at Momo. She pursed her lips, and at this close distance, he could see the way her face twisted fully into its frown. "That's… not all." Her eyes flickered for a moment. "Shouto… the reason no heroes arrived on time to help, except for you… There _was_ a critical alert sent out on the messaging system. For the _other side_ of the city."

Shouto swallowed. "And was there?... A critical alert?"

Momo shook her head.

"…It's a secure server," Shouto whispered. "We have the best people in the country making sure its unhackable, like M- many, uh, hackers," he awkwardly substituted. "The only people who would be able to direct the heroes internal communications like that, then, would be…"

Momo nodded.

Shouto swallowed, and reached down to tangle one of his hands with Momo's. It wasn't as comforting as he hoped it would be, because all he could hear, echoing in his mind, were a choice few of Le Million's final words.

" _Trust no one."_

"Momo?"

"Yeah, Shouto?"

"…Lets… keep the noumu, what… what Le Million said, and even Dekuless, between us, okay?"

"Shouto-"

"Please. Just for now."

"…Okay."

 **XXX**

The police came in to question Shouto shortly after Momo left to make sure her shop wasn't on fire. (Shouto didn't blame her- it had happened once before when Shouto had been injured and she had rushed in as his emergency contact, only to return home to a cindering hole in her parent's house. It was why she had her own segregated work space now.)

For once, Shouto was glad that Tsukauchi Naomasa had retired. Keeping his face blank (which was honestly its usual state) was enough to convince them that no, Shouto didn't remember anything after he 'had a roof dropped on him', as 'reports' said. They were skeptical how he had been on scene so quickly for the incident, but camera footage easily placed him climbing fourteen stories up fifteen minutes before the explosions occurred, juice box in hand.

It scared Shouto, a little bit- how easy it was to lie to the police.

How easy it was to believe they were corrupt.

Because they swallowed what he said like a drowning man intakes water. Guzzling up the lie, and happy when it fit the mold that they had already formed. Even joking, in the wake of the number one pro hero's death- saying that Shouto should finally cash in on all his vacation time.

They only seemed genuinely shocked when he agreed.

…Come on, really?! He just pulled a story out of his ass that lined up suspiciously well with their own lie (or lie told to them?) and Shouto saying he might take time off was what got them suspicious?

Alright. So he hadn't taken more than three sick days his entire career, and those had been enforced upon him due to his own quirk overuse. Sue him.

So the police left, shooting Shouto alarmed looks. The nurse that he filed his exit paperwork with informed him of his siblings visiting earlier while he was unconscious, with express demands from Fuyumi to call. The nurse then proceeded to stumble and spill her coffee over Shouto's hospital gown when he said he would try and meet up with them once he was taking his holiday.

This. This is why Shouto avoided small talk.

But at least the nurse was something like a professional- she called in a doctor, who dazedly signed off on Shouto's release and gave a permissive slip describing his injuries that he could use to file for sick leave at his agency. Considering he ran his own agency, it was a bit redundant, but he appreciated the sentiment and the awkward wave they gave as he left.

He didn't appreciate the doctor slipping the nurse a twenty and loudly whispering "thought he wouldn't take a break till he snapped a leg off!"

Shouto stepped out the hospital doors with a sigh, the pack his sister had dropped off now slung over his shoulder and filled with his hero clothes, exchanged for the joggers and long sleeve printed with All Might's shining logo that she had packed inside. Shouto made a mental note to buy her a cake- not specifically for this reason, but mostly just because Fuyumi always deserved cake.

Shouto was so caught up, debating whether he should buy her carrot cake, or the less crumbly and child mess improvement option of rice crispie cake, that he didn't notice the arm that snapped out to slap against his shoulder until it was too late.

Shouto reflexively twisted, his right arm lifting as his stance widened. He froze once he caught sight of the beaming, pink skinned woman before him.

"Hey, Todoroki!" Pinky exclaimed. She crossed her arms over the green leopard print of her chest, the fur lining of her costume ruffling slightly at the neck. "Glad to see you're okay!"

Shouto blinked, then politely nodded. He stared blankly as Ashido continued to cheerily grin, unsure how to proceed. When was the last time he talked to her? A year ago, while collaborating to move rubble from a collapsed sports centre? Even longer?

It didn't help that he hadn't talked to Ashido much in high school either. She had hung out mostly with the other girls, sans Momo who had clustered with Shouto. Ashido was just so cheerful that Shouto didn't know how to handle her- he didn't think he had ever held a prolonged smile for more than five seconds since he was kid, but here she was now, still smiling all throughout Shouto's awkward pause. That had to be at least twenty seconds.

Didn't her cheeks get sore?

"…And you as well," Shouto finally responded. "I think I caught a glimpse of you on the news- were you one of the ones involved in cleanup and evacuation?"

Ashido nodded, and pressed a hand to her hip. Shouto followed the movement, and only now realized that her costume was fairly scuffed and dirty. He hadn't noticed before because her ensemble was so wild and bright- Shouto had naturally kept his eyes up to save himself from possible seizures.

"Yeah! I just finished my shift- they sent me here because there was a bit of a scare where they thought that another villain might have left some kind of slow acting toxic particulates in the air, but I think that was just an excuse so that they could get a fresh round of heroes in to help out."

Shouto narrowed his eyes in thought. That was a little odd- Ashido probably hadn't been their longer than two hours- drastically less than the standard six hours relief shifts. The villain hazard was a good reason to clear heroes out of the scene, but was it for the reasons that Ashido assumed?...

Ashido leaned forward and poked SHouto in the forehead. "Space case spaces again- what conspiracy theory you got running through your head this time, Mr. Hand Crusher?"

"No conspiracy theories, just brain damage," Shouto snipped back.

Ashido winced and laughed at the same time, her hand reaching up to fluff at the dusty hair around her horns. "Hah, sorry- shouldn't pick on the injured guy- good job helping out all those people by the way." Ashido paused, and tilted her head. "Say- Class Pres thought it'd be a good idea to get all us from 1-A to meet up next weekend, thought we'd rent out a room at a restaurant. Thought it would be a good time to meet up- to reconnect, and offer respects to… those who have passed. I know you're probably busy, but I thought I'd let you know."

"Yeah, I'll come."

Ashido froze. "Uh-"

"Momo can come too, if she wants right? As a once member of 1-A?"

"Y-yes. Yes!?"

"Excellent," Shouto murmured. He paused. "I… lost my phone in the conflict yesterday. Would you be able to send information on the class meet up to Momo for us?"

Ashido blankly nodded.

Shouto allowed a quick smile to blip, momentarily, onto his face. If Ashido could do it, so could he! "Sounds good. I haven't seen most of our class in months, some in years. I guess our president specifically did it as well to make sure we were all doing okay in the wake of… recent events."

"Y-yeah," Ashido said. She shook her head, and very, very gently smiled a smile that wasn't really one at all. "You never know who's next, in this industry- we all know that. There's always a next."

Shouto carefully didn't allow himself to freeze. Ashido noticed anyways, and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Were here for you, Shouto- I know we don't talk much," she gently said, "but class 1-A sticks together. It'll be good seeing you and vice-pres again before you start drowning in work." Ashido squeezed his shoulder, then allowed her hand to drop.

Shouto gave a slight, calming breath in before he continued, making sure his left side didn't steam. He wasn't that emotional.

…Yet.

"Actually, I'm taking a vacation," Shouto casually dropped. "I likely won't be working for the next month. It's why I knew I could make the get together."

Ashido mouth fell open slightly. She closed it, then tilted her head and squinted her eyes at Shouto. "Never thought I'd see the day you took a break- Mineta's always going on about that icicle up your ass, and to be honest, I thought there might be some truth to it!" Ashido grinned, gave Shouto a hearty slap on the back, and bounced on her toes. "I think that little reality bend is a good moment to cut this convo short- I do gotta go make sure I'm not infested with toxic radiation or something." She stabbed a finger towards Shouto as she took a step backwards down the hospital hall, still facing him. "Now, make sure you come! This is history breaking. I can hold this against Tsuyu to make sure she shows up. If even you're breaking out of your shell and making the time to visit, she has no excuse, hot shot or not!"

Ashido spun on her heel, and called back, "See you this Saturday then! I'll text your girlfriend the details!"

"Not my girlfriend," Shouto muttered. He dazedly waved at Ashido back, then dropped his hand to hold the strap of the bag slung across his shoulder. His thoughts raced, and he internally celebrated the new opportunity. As Shouto finally left the hospital, he concocted a plan. Ashido was somewhat right- Shouto didn't take breaks. This wasn't going to be so much a holiday as it would be a research venture. Because signs so far pointed to a cover up, and Shouto was curious to see where this rabbit hole lead. Probably hell, but he could maybe scrounge up some optimism that it only ended in a deep dark pit filled with villains instead.

The tin foil hat made its return. Shouto was going to figure out what Le Million's last words meant, why someone didn't want the people or heroes to know about the truth of Le Million's death, and what the hell _Dekuless,_ that sneaky bastard, had to do with it. The first step was information gathering- and who better to ask then the up and coming pro heroes of his generation?

Shouto allowed his lips to quirk for a drastic _second time_ that day. He had a good feeling about this, and internally celebrated the return of his conspiracy theorist ways that had served him well during high school.

(Two weeks later, while trapped in a deep dark pit filled with villains, Shouto wished he had set his tin foil hat on fire.)


End file.
